


These Things Come in Threes

by TristansGirl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TristansGirl/pseuds/TristansGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was inspired by CuddleFuddle 's summary in the fic, A Friend Who Bleeds is Better. http://archiveofourown.org/works/858210 . When I read their summary, I thought it came from a prompt, maybe on the kinkmeme, and I couldn't help but fill it with my own version. Waiting to hear if it's ok to post. *fingers crossed*</p><p>Her (his?) story is great and I definitely recommend checking it out. </p><p>Here is the summary (prompt?) that I'm working from. I did change it a bit, as I couldn't quite figure out how Will would hear Hannibal and write it properly and realistically. CuddleFuddle did a much better job with that. Also, this is pretty damn dark. Be warned.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal arranges for Will to be kidnapped and raped/tortured by another sadistic psychopath (You could go wild with the rape/torture part.) Will is blindfolded throughout the ordeal and can't see Hannibal is standing off the side and watching everything. Hannibal keeps talking to Will the entire time and Will, thinking Hannibal is only in his head, opens up and tells him a lot of things. When Hannibal is satisfied he tells the OC to bug off and pretends to rescue Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Things Come in Threes

Daniel Manheim looked at the trembling creature on the bed and felt something spike within him. It could have been lust or it could have been power. He no longer bothered to try and analyze it. Whatever it was, it felt good. 

He then looked to the man in the corner. The man sat rigid and straight, his legs crossed, his hands in his lap. 

Daniel tried to ignore him. He had done this four other times and he had always been alone. But this man, whose name he still didn’t know, had come to him with threats of alerting the police and FBI to his activities. Daniel had been prepared to kill the man right then and there. He had never responded well to threats. But then the man had come up with an interesting offer. 

_Allow me to watch_

Daniel sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his hand down its stomach. It flinched and tried to turn away as it groaned. It was past speech at this point. All four of the others had been as well. Though this one had been more interesting than the others when it had talked. This one was smart, wily almost. This one had been dangerous.

Not anymore. 

Daniel ran a hand through its damp curls, eliciting more groans from its bruised mouth. Daniel kissed it, savoring the blood and fear. Then he bit down into its tender lips. Its pain excited him and he grew hard. He wanted desperately to see the pain in its eyes but the stranger in the corner had insisted that it be blindfolded while he was there. 

Daniel thought back to only a few hours ago, when it hadn’t been blindfolded. It had been so pretty when it was in the throes of agony. Pity that he had to use his imagination now to conjure up the memory of those gray/blue eyes. 

He straddled it, pressing nails into its ribcage, spreading its legs wide open. It did not plead, it never did. All the others had. But this one merely clenched its fists and tensed its body. It knew what was coming. It had endured this many times over the past two days. 

Daniel lined his cock up at its entrance, slicking himself up with his own pre cum and spit. It was just enough. He glanced over at the man, watching him as he watched them. The man was odd. Unnerving. He never touched himself or the creature on the bed. He only ever watched them with an almost frightening intensity. 

Daniel went back to ignoring the man. He would be rid of him soon. Tomorrow he would kill the ruined creature on the bed. Tomorrow he would kill the silent stranger as well. 

He pressed into the body beneath him, gently at first then with a particularly terrible ferocity. He bit into its skin as he thrust in over and over. The pain fed him until he came deep within its body. 

*******************

Will Graham tried to focus on his breathing and not the stabbing pain inside his body or the man that lay on top of him. 

He was tempted to beg for it to stop, a natural reaction to the pain and humiliation. The words were on the tip of his tongue and he had to bite them back before they spilled out. He would not beg; there would be no point to it. He knew everything about this man, everything except his name. He knew that the man would only be excited by his pleas and that they would not sway him. 

He knew that the man was a biter and that he got off as much on the pain he was inflicting as he did on the rapes themselves. He knew that the man was single and white and employed sporadically in blue collar work. Construction. 

He also knew that the man would kill him tomorrow. The FBI was aware of the man’s pattern. Kidnapping and holding men for three days of prolonged sexual abuse before tearing them apart with a knife at their throat.

Today was the second day. 

He twisted in his restraints and endured and tried not to drown in his fear.

The man liked to talk, calling him a fucking whore, asking him how much he liked it, then telling him how much he liked it. He also liked to tell him that he was nothing before calling him trash. Will wasn't sure which of those he was supposed to be. He was fairly certain the man hadn't quite figured it out either. 

He endured all that as well, tuning out the words as best he could. 

Then the man came inside him, giving him a particularly vicious bite on his throat, one that caused him to buck up and cry out, a pitiful sound even to his own ears. 

The man pulled out and waited, still and silent except for his harsh breathing. Then he undid the blindfold and roughly pulled it away. Will thought about trying to talk to him again, to get through to him and get the man to see him as a person. He quickly abandoned the idea. He didn’t have the strength required for those mental gymnastics and he knew that he was bound to fail. Besides, he couldn’t even look at the man without wanting to vomit.

So instead he blinked up at the ceiling and whispered, “Why the blindfold?”

“What?”

His throat was raw from screaming and he hadn’t had a drop of water in two days, yet he forced himself to ask again. “Why the blindfold? I’ve already seen your face. You’ll kill me tomorrow. So, why?”

The man loomed over him, his anger vivid and bright. “Shut the fuck up!” 

Will closed his eyes. It only made sense. Why blindfold him some of the times but not others? The man got off on watching his pain and seeing it in his eyes, that much Will knew. So why deny himself that pleasure? 

It only made sense. 

“Who else was here?” Will asked. 

The man hit him, rocking his head to the side and splitting his lip open. 

“Ain’t nobody else here, you crazy, fucking whore!” the man shouted, grasping Will by the throat and throttling him. 

He did not kill him however; it was too soon for that final scene. Instead the man let go, choosing to hit him again before stalking out and leaving Will blessedly alone.

Will knew that he was trembling; he could feel the weakness in him overcoming what little strength he had left. He wanted to give in and weep but he was fairly sure that he would not be able to stop. 

He tried to turn, to find as much comfort as he could despite the rope biting into his wrists and ankles. Even the best position was agony. 

He tried to escape into sleep but it evaded him, leaving him nothing to do but wait until it was time for the next rape. His mind wanted him to think about the assaults and about how the man felt scraping against his insides. 

Will refused. He clung to his faltering strength and thought about why the man’s partner was always silent and never participated. And why, if the man had been acting alone this entire time, he had decided to take on a partner now. 

 

*********************

Hannibal Lecter sat on his customary chair in the corner and watched intently as Daniel Manheim raped Will Graham. 

It was the final assault and it was particularly vicious. Manheim hit Will, scratching and biting him like a man possessed by pure evil. One of the bites had pierced Will’s skin completely and Hannibal watched in silence as Manheim spit out a chunk of Will’s flesh onto the floor.

Will was exhausted and battered and bloody but he was still beautiful. The most beautiful man that Hannibal had ever seen. 

Hannibal had never cared much for sexual activity, preferring other pursuits to something so messy and awkward. He wasn’t much in for sexual violence either. He found it common and dull.

And yet . . . 

And yet. He had to admit that he found something about this very appealing. It was the reason that he had gone to Manheim with his proposal in the first place. 

He considered it indulging a curiosity. After all, it was not often that one came across an opportunity like this. To witness a man being physically and mentally broken in so short a time. It was simply too good to pass up. 

Even now, he was uncharacteristically hard. He longed to touch himself, but knew that discipline was of the utmost importance here. He could not leave any evidence that he had witnessed this. 

Good Will and Jack and all the others could never suspect. 

He shifted in his seat and leaned forward, drinking in Will’s pain, savoring it as he would savor a fine wine. Will was beyond words now, reduced to strangled cries and breathless sobbing. Three days without food or water, three days of this torture, had accomplished that much.

It had also made Will more beautiful than ever. Lying there, bleeding and fragile and broken he had transcended from mere mortal into a work of art. A portrait painted in the dark hues of terror and pain. 

Hannibal salivated at the tableau before him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning out in pleasure. 

A nod from Manheim put an abrupt end to it all. It meant that he was close to the end and that Hannibal was meant to leave. 

Hannibal stood and nodded in return. It had been part of their pact. Manheim would allow Hannibal to watch, at times, and Hannibal would walk away before the killing so that he might have his moment in private. 

With one last look at Will, Hannibal walked out the door and into the hallway. There he waited, listening intently at the door, trying to parse out just the right moment for action.

Ah yes, it was time. The man had ejaculated, which meant that Will had little time left. 

He opened the door, then did his best impersonation of an innocent man finding his friend in a dire situation. 

He attacked Manheim right away, punching him in the throat so he wouldn’t be able to talk and give anything away. The struggle between he and Manheim was all too real but in the end there was only one possible outcome. 

Manheim lay dead, stabbed to death with the very knife that he intended to use on Will. 

He looked to the bed and schooled his face into the proper expression. 

Will lifted his head and in his ruined voice asked, “Who is it? Who’s there?” He sounded wild and desperate. 

Hannibal ran to his side. “It’s me, Will. It’s Hannibal.”

He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder, removing it when Will flinched violently. 

“No,” Will gasped. 

“Will,” he said. “I’m going to take off the blindfold. Is that all right?”

Will nodded jerkily. 

Hannibal reached over and undid the cloth, pulling it down from Will’s eyes as gently as he could. 

Will’s gaze darted madly about the room until he focused on Hannibal. “Where?”

“He’s dead, Will. You’re safe.”

“No . . . no . . .” Will was trembling so hard it seemed as if he would shake apart. 

“Yes, Will. I killed him. I had to. He would have killed me. And it appeared as if he intended to kill you.”

Will could only stare, stranded too deep in the nightmare that he had just lived through. Hannibal understood that he was traversing across a field of landmines. One wrong move and they would both be destroyed. He continued to use the voice that Will always responded to, feeling his way through. And trying not to let his excitement show.

“I am going to undo the ropes, Will. I will not touch you otherwise. Afterwards, I will call Jack and an ambulance.”

Will nodded, giving his silent permission. Hannibal worked at the ropes, pulling them first from his wrists and then his ankles to expose the raw, abraded skin underneath. Will immediately shrank in on himself, his body unconsciously going fetal. 

“Where? Where is he?” he asked. 

Hannibal covered Will with his coat, wrapping it around his shoulders without touching him. Will clutched at it and did not stop shaking. 

“He’s there, Will. He’s dead.”

Will looked, saw the body and cried out, a wounded sound that was more animal than human. 

“Do not look. He is dead. It’s over.”

And then Will Graham did the most extraordinary thing. He turned toward Hannibal and asked, “How are you here?”

It warmed Hannibal, igniting the fondness that he seemed to feel only for Will. Despite everything that had happened and everything that had been done to him, Will Graham’s unique mind continued to question and to seek out answers. 

“Hush. There will be time for that later. First we need to call Jack. You need a hospital, Will.”

“There was someone else here. He never spoke. He never touched me,” Will whispered.

Hannibal paused, cell phone in hand. Interesting. He should have known that Will would pick up on that. Yet another reason why Will was so special; his mind worked even in the most desperate of times. He would have to remember that.

“There is no one else here, Will.”

“But . . .”

“Let me make the call. We shall deal with that later as well.”

He called Jack Crawford as Will sat in silence, hugging the coat around his body tightly. 

“Now we wait,” he said, setting the phone down after giving all the necessary information. Jack assured them that all manner of assistance would be there within minutes.

“I can’t stay here,” Will whispered. “Please, can we leave? Please.” He clutched at Hannibal’s arm, bringing Hannibal closer. Then he leaned in and placed his forehead against Hannibal’s chest, shuddering as tears slowly began to fall. 

“Please.”

Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will and held him, inhaling in the heady fragrance of need and despair. He smiled against the curl of Will’s hair. 

“Of course, Will. Hold on to me.”

Will did, holding on with a strength that surprised them both. 

And slowly and carefully, Hannibal lifted Will into his arms and carried him across the threshold and out of his prison.


End file.
